


The After

by MissMoonshine



Series: The Spellman twins [2]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Dark, Family, Gen, Hurt, Pain, Twins, Whispers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 10:57:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoonshine/pseuds/MissMoonshine
Summary: The days after the plane crash are dark for all of them.For Zelda they are black.





	The After

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write the happy story about their youth. I felt like writing something sad, so I started this one with some melancholy. It escalated and I'm sorry...  
> I also read too much poetry in the last few days; just imagine someone is reading this to you with a very calm and measured voice. Weird punctuations will make sense then, I hope.
> 
>  
> 
> I don't own 'The Chilling adventures of Sabrina'.

There was no blue in the sky, only grey clouds just as dull and lifeless as the mood down below in Greendale. The air was filled with sorrow, even the trees in the woods made every passer-by feel sad. Melancholy filled the mortuary and no one seemed able to chase it away.

There was music coming from upstairs but it wasn’t the usual loud, distracting music young Ambrose liked to play. Even he opted for an old blues vinyl that filled the house with its’ woeful tunes.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, the third attempt to make her sister’s favourite pie had gone wrong and yet Hilda couldn’t find it in herself to be mad. Too heavy was the burden on her shoulders, the thought of carrying the family through these dark days.

Even the baby, barely half a year of age, seemed affected by the mood that surrounded her as she squirmed in her baby seat and cried unhappily until her aunt scooped her into her arms and mumbled a calming charm.

But however dreary the mortuary was, it was nothing compared to the lifelessness Zelda felt as she was lying motionless on her bed.

For days her sister and her nephew had tried to make her get up but all their attempts had failed. Perhaps it was because neither of them were in the mood to cheer anyone up and they just felt a fraction of the pain and sorrow that was eating her up inwardly.

Hilda had lost her brother.

Ambrose had lost his uncle.

Sabrina, too young still to know them, had lost her parents.

But Zelda had lost her other half.

Her twin.

 

...

 

Witches had a tale, a story about twins. No, it was less a story than a myth and no one knew how much truth there was to it unless they had a twin.

 _‘Closer to each other than to anyone_ else’, it said they were, and ‘ _close in heart and mind no matter where.’_

But there was a part that people knew held some truth for while twins were rare, they were hardly ever seen alone.

_‘When one leaves the world, the other is soon to follow or else they will be taken by madness in their sorrow.’_

 

It was what her sister feared now, that her beloved, strong sister would leave her to be with her brother. It was why she did everything in her power to pull her out of her mournful state but there was nothing that seemed to help.

Only once had she shown any reaction, the very day their brother’s plane had crashed. Tears, there had been so many tears and she had clung to Sabrina as if the baby was her lifeline. But in the days that followed, she had not even responded to her niece and with every time she saw her sister’s still body, Hilda became more and more worried.

On the third evening, she had deemed it best to move her bed into her sister’s room.

It was to see that she slept, she claimed but the real reason she kept close to her heart. Never would she tell anyone how afraid she was that her Zelda would do something desperate, that she would not be there in the morning. That she would not be alive anymore.

There was no way to deny that Hilda had not loved her brother deeply, had even began to love his wife for she had given them the most perfect niece but her sister and brother had been twins and no matter how deeply she cared, she would never share that.

Never had she been jealous of them for she was loved by everyone in her family and her brother and sister were the most precious people in her life for a long time. Now he was gone and she had only her sister left.

But was she really her sister? She had wondered, in the past days, if it wound not have been better, gentler, kinder if Zelda passed into the other realm as well. The woman on the other bed was hardly her sister, merely a pale shell with her face.

Wouldn’t it be more merciful to release her from her pain?

There had never been that kind of strength in Hilda, the strength to hurt anyone – and be it but a butterfly or a bug. No, no matter how she wished to redeem her sister, she could not.

So she took to sitting on her bed all night to watch her as the darkness crawled into the room, making the furniture throw long shadows in the dim light of the moon. Not once did Zelda move, not a rustle of her bedsheets ever interrupted the silence of the night.

 

They were left alone to mourn for four days. On the fifth day after their brothers passing his successor visited, to pay his condolences to his prodigy’s family.

He asked about Zelda, told them how worried everyone at the church was about her – what where those but empty words of man with no idea about the truth?

‘Aunt Zee will be just fine’, their nephew claimed with perhaps a little too much confidence in his voice but no one reprimanded him. Who should? They all wanted to believe that he was right.

‘Of course she will.’ There was a note in Fasts voice that told her that he wished it just as desperately as they did but that he did not believe it. Hilda thought that he must have loved Zelda once, maybe he still did. She wondered if she should let him upstairs to see Zelda, to see her himself but she knew that what had been between them before had been discarded a long time ago.

So they accepted his well-wishes and the gifts from the coven and send him on his way again. If either of them was surprised how little he resisted, they did not mention it.

 

It was on the eighth day after the accident that Hilda had to go to town. Whatever stocks they had, they had gone through in the last days and while she was rather unwilling to leave her sister, she had to take care of the family.

So in the early hours of morning, long before the sun reached her highest point, she left and drove away. The sky had still not cleared and she briefly wondered if perhaps it was their fault, that they were influencing the weather.

The people in town were talking. Maybe they tried to be silent and subtle but to Hilda it seemed as if they were screaming at her. They had known Edward, of course. They had been just as charmed by him as their coven. They had also known Diana. She had been a daughter of their town. No, the whispers about the tragedy were no whispers, they were too loud and yet, nobody stepped up and spoke to her directly. 

For once, Hilda found that she didn’t mind. There was nothing that she had to say to them.

 

Something was different. There was still the everlasting melancholy that seemed to cover the house like a warm duvet, there still were the sorrow and the silence.

But something had changed, shifted barely noticeable and notice Hilda did. Because it seemed better. As if someone had lit a candle in the darkest night. The morning star that guided towards sunrise.

The first smile in many days spread on her face at the picture she found.

 

* * *

 

 

There was nothing but emptiness. It could have been dark or light, she would not have cared. She did not care anymore, not about the sunrise or the stars, not about the voices of the people, certainly not about herself.

Be gone, that was all she wished for, all she cared about.

The emptiness inside her seemed to swallow every feeling, every sound, every notion that there was more in the world and she was left with nothing but stale memories of the past. A time long gone, when there was no emptiness that filled her, when loneliness was a word foreign to her.

These two emotions were the only ones she seemed capable of now. But were they? Or was it her imagination too? Were they just an illusion when really she could feel nothing anymore?

But no, that would not have made any sense. Hidden away behind the empty felling, buried und the loneliness, there was something.

Pain.

Loss.

Pain and loss and loneliness and emptiness, the only things she seemed capable of comprehending.

But, she wondered, should they not be intense? Draining? Destructive?

They were hard and clear and yet dull. As if looking at them through a black veil, detached and far away.

She was not there anymore but she wasn’t gone yet either. In between, they called it, and it was an unpleasant state. And should she not be angry that she wished to be gone? How glorious would it be not to feel anymore?

But what would her brother think of it?

He would not – could not – make anything of it because he was gone. Dead. Forever.

This she could not – would not – grasp and yet the mere thought of it being true (for she knew how very true it was) was painful like a knife twisting in her chest.

The circle had pulled her in and entrapped her, she could never flee.

Feel nothing, remember the reason, fell everything, feel nothing again.

Did she want to hide from it? Perhaps. But could she? She could try. So she did, buried herself deep in memories of childhood days filled with laughter and astonishing travels to the far off places in this world.

It did not help.

It only made it worse for every good memory was now becoming stained by the knowledge that it would be impossible to repeat. That the person who had always made her laugh, who held her and comforted her, the one person who knew her heart inside and out, this one person was now forever gone.

A long time ago they had made a promise. They would never leave each other, so they would never have to be alone.

How often had they broken it – had she broken it herself when she ran away, all across the world. But had she really been gone? Had she really left? Her body had but her mind, her heart, had never. How could she really leave when their thoughts were always together?

Perhaps it was her fault, that their plane had crashed. After all, she had been the one to leave so many times, the one to break her promise again and again, and now this was her punishment. For she could not imagine that her brother, now in the pits of hell with their dark Lord, was suffering as she was.

All she wanted was to be with him again, like they used to be. Powerful and strong, each other’s pillar of strength and the knowledge of eternity in their future. But it was all gone now, just a fading dream between too clear memories.

In those memories she was laughing. She was happy. She was strong.

She could never be happy again. Her heart was gone, her strength with it.

Nothing was left of her, it had all dissolved when her brother’s last breath left him. How was she anything now but a vault of lost memories?

All the thoughts were cold. The memories did not hold any feeling. Remembering them was like watching from behind a frozen window.

Too many emotions were fighting for her mind, for her attention, like duellists would for the eye of a princess. She could be that princess, standing far above them, observing them and being so very detached.

Sometimes there was a faint voice whispering through the emptiness, a voice that told her to be strong and get up and go on – it was her brother’s voice.

It broke her.

In the beginning, she tried to listen to it, tried to do as she was told.

Get up, go on.

She failed.

She tried again.

She failed again.

She tried again.

She failed.

She stopped trying.

Crystal clear voices began to fill the silence. Some seemed to bring light with them, some were just as dark. They whispered to her of memories, of how her brother had failed her, how she had failed him.

It was not what she wanted to hear, not what she needed to hear. What she needed was impossible to get, a few soft words form her brother that everything would be alright and that she was strong enough to get through this.

Balance was what the universe was built on and brother and sister had once been at balance. Now it was only sister, no brother and the balance was gone. She was slipping further and further into herself, not like a retreat in a fight but desperately seeking shelter.

Shelter from what?

Shelter from herself. Shelter from the outside.

It would be silent there and there would be no feelings, no memories, just the lingering touch of her brother’s presence, the last bit that had not been ripped from her when he left. No noises from the physical world would reach her and no more would she be linked to her body. No more pain, no more sorrow.

She could not find shelter.

 

Someone was screaming. She did not know if it was her own voice – what did she even sound like? – or was it one of the whispering voices that had been her company for days?

 _Stop_ , she begged, _stop, stop, STOP!_

It did not. A faint memory was creeping towards her conscience, one that had been tucked away neatly under all the happy ones. It was new, still fresh, and as she looked at it she wondered how she could have forgotten.

The screaming turned into crying. It reminded her of someone. Not her brother, for once, but her sister. Crying like that as a baby.

A baby.

Her brother.

His wife.

Their baby.

Her niece.

Her night-daughter.

Her brother’s child. A part of him that was not gone.

Her responsibility.

Her strength.

 

She opened her eyes.

  

* * *

 

 

The days rippled away in silence, no one dared to talk in fear of saying the wrong thing. It was better than it had been and from time to time their nephew even dared to play his loud records. They knew it would never be like before again.

_Before._

That was what they called their life now, everything that had happened, everything they had seen, now it was all just _before_.

None of them really cared. Hilda’s pies were successful again and she made fresh ones every day. Never blackberry though. That had been Edward’s favourite.

They never said his name as if not acknowledging it would make it less real. It did not feel real to either of them when his presence was still lingering everywhere in the house.

Sabrina clung to Zelda. She was her night mother, the first person to hold her after she was born, the one who blessed her with a kiss on her forehead and sung her to sleep when neither of her parents could. But Sabrina was a baby and beyond such things that she did know nothing about. She clung to her aunt because she was familiar, she smelled like roses and sage and something else, something that was ‘daddy’ and that she would never be able to point out.

No one even knew of this but no one did mind. The baby was not crying anymore, not when she was in her arms. And Zelda held her as tightly as she could for she was her strength now.

 

‘Hilda?’

‘Yes?’

‘What are you doing?’

‘I thought I’d move back into my room?’

‘Stay.’

‘I…’

‘Please.’

Hilda stayed.

 

...

 

It was a clear night and every star was visible on the firmament. Summer was approaching and the nights became shorter and warmer and Hilda could not sleep. She got up, silently, and ventured outside.

Looking at the stars, memories came to her; a long time ago when they were children. They would all lie on the ground, Edward to right and Zelda to her left, and watch the stars. Their hands were always linked, clasped together to strengthen their bond and silently they would whisper to each other in their thoughts. They spoke of everything and nothing, of the star signs and the galaxies, of the realms next to theirs’ and of the universes beyond.

She dared not to lay down on their spot alone but instead sat on the old bench behind the back door. A plank was loose but she could not think about it. Fixing these physical things had always been her brothers joy.

The hours passed by as she sat there in silence and she only wandered back inside when the first dawn became visible beyond the horizon.

It was just as silent inside, Ambrose and Sabrina still fast asleep, as they would be for many more hours.

Her sister was not. Oh, she was asleep but she was dreaming. It must have been a very unpleasant dream for she was moving fitfully, desperately trying to escape something. If she was very quiet, Hilda could even hear a faint whisper from her, breathless and ragged.

‘Please’, ‘No’ and ‘stop’.

She could not remember a time when she had ever felt this lost. What could she do to help her sister? Tears were glistening on Zelda’s cheeks and she could feel some burn in her own eyes. No, she refused to watch her sister suffer like this.

What would Edward do? Did it matter? She could never replace him. She would never WANT to replace him but she could be the sister that was needed now. The sister he would want her to be.

A gentle hand on Zelda’s shoulder was enough to stop her frantic moving. Lying down next to her made her whispers stop. Pulling her close led her to open her eyes.

‘Go back to sleep, Zelds’, she whispered softly and wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘I’m not letting go of you.’

It had to be enough. It was enough. Zelda finally slept and Hilda was glad she stayed.

 

She couldn’t remember how often she and Edward had fallen asleep together, curled around each other. They had always known instinctively what comfort the other needed and it was a habit none of their parent’s rough punishments could stop. Why should they? They were not doing anything illicit. Such notions always made them shudder.

His embrace was the most comforting thing in the world to her, so warm and comfortable and so very familiar. Never had she imagined that anything but Vinegar Tom would ever give her a similar thought of comfort and yet there she was, huddled close to her little sister and feeling better than she had in weeks.

It was hard to say how much time had passed since … the accident. Her thoughts were finally becoming clear once again, no longer huddled in the aftermath of her breakdown. She loathed to call it that but she couldn’t think of another name for that was what it had been.

The worst thing was that she still heard the whispers. They had faded, were barely there at day but they came back at night. Having Hilda close by helped. Having her arms around her silenced them. It was hard, to constantly fight them. But now she remembered her responsibilities, her family, her niece.

‘I can’t do it without you, Hilda.’

‘You don’t have to. I’ll always be there.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘Don’t say what?’ Her expression face was so pained that Hilda pulled her even closer. Zelda buried her face in the crook of her neck and it made her next words almost impossible to hear.

‘Never say always. Please.’

She understood, suddenly. A kiss on Zelda’s hair.

‘I’ll be here as long as I can.’

 

* * *

 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into month, month turned to years. They seemed to fly past and slowly but steadily things got better again. Good, even.

On occasion, Zelda would kill Hilda. Hilda didn’t like it but she bore it. It only happened when Zelda couldn’t bare anymore that she was Hilda and not Edward.

They all changed.

Ambrose got calmer. It was almost as if he wanted to imitate his uncle, the way he devoured books and soaked up all new knowledge. Perhaps he wanted to distract his aunts. If he did, it worked for he could spend hours discussing their faith with them. They had always known that he was clever but it was only now that he dared to show it.

Sabrina grew up. There wasn’t a day when she didn’t find something new, went out exploring and come back with her latest great discovery, when she didn’t laugh at her aunts and hugged them as tight as her skinny arms could. They loved her and there was no Spellman who would not have done anything for her.

Hilda had changed, too. It was more subtle and almost impossible to notice if you did not know the family before. Back then, Edward and Zelda had been the strength in their family, the glue that held them together and kept them from falling apart. This duty had now fallen to her, the younger sister, the one not broken. She found her own strength inside herself and she would use it to hold everyone else close.

It felt right, good and she wondered if perhaps this was her purpose.

The one who had changed most was Zelda. It was no surprise to anyone. She had always been strong, proud and powerful but now she was not whole anymore. Her brother was missing and she was fighting, always fighting, to keep what little strength she had. She often wondered if she would have even been able to gather this much if it had not been for her niece’s pitiful crying that day Hilda had gone to town.

But it didn’t matter, she was back. Still only a shell of her former self but still glorious and powerful. She didn’t see it. She didn’t have time for it anymore, too much of her focus was turned inwards to keep the whispers at bay, to not let herself be pulled back again, to _that_ place. She was always afraid that she would falter so she built walls around herself, hid behind newspapers and left the house rarely.

Zelda had never been a very cheerful or optimistic woman, nor had she ever been soft and cuddly. Except with her siblings, of course. But now she hardly ever laughed anymore, her back was straighter than ever and her expectations exceedingly high.

Only those who had known her well before could see the old Zelda hidden underneath her new demeanour and even they found it harder and harder to pull her into the open. It never lasted long. They didn’t mind and no one held it against her.

They just learned to live with all their changes over time.

 

* * *

 

 

The years passed and Sabrina grew up, a little every day. Time had a habit of never passing as one wished, to slow when in a hurry and to quick when all you wanted was to enjoy it.

The time for Sabrina’s baptism approached sooner than they wanted and it was hard to keep the worry from their faces. And worry they all did.

Ambrose worried that his cousin would do something stupid.

Hilda worried that she had made a mistake and that her niece would make the wrong decision.

Zelda worried that her night-daughter would discover what Edward had done and make a grave mistake in the wake of it. And she worried that she would find out about her part in it and turn to resent her.

 

All their worries were reasonable and they all became truth.

Sabrina was not going to tell her friends she would leave.

Sabrina didn’t want to give up her mortal friends and doubted her choice to be baptised.

Sabrina ran from her baptism and was trialled, her aunt called on stand to bare witness against her and when she heard the reason, she became so incredibly angry that they were worried she would burn a hole in the carpet.

She didn’t.

They were still worried about her.

 

Once again it turned out right to worry.

A sleep demon, an exorcism, angering a high priest and a resurrection.

 

They sat together, late into the night, to decide which one had been the worst.

They could not agree on one but agreed that all had been bad decisions.

 

...

 

Neither of them had ever needed anyone. Ambrose had the occasional fling here and there but neither of the sisters was tempted to go and find physical pleasure.

Hilda didn’t see why she should start now when she never had before. And she was worried about leaving her sister alone.

Zelda was afraid. Not of being rejected, afraid of losing control. She knew she was treating on a thin line between sanity and insanity and what if she lost control? What if she was unable to come back again?

When she confessed to Faustus, she only spoke of what he could hear, what he would understand. What followed after, she could not comprehend. He stamped down her barriers and she wanted to run, only to find that she didn’t have the strength to get away.

Pain and pleasure were a terrible idea; one she wasn’t sure she could stomach. She used to but she was a different woman than she had been.

Too many times had Hilda found her, arms scratched open with her own nails, because she couldn’t bare the feeling of being alone. It had happened so regularly in the beginning, when she expected Edward to stand behind her or when she waited for his comment on something she said. Many happier moments had been destroyed when she was to unthoughtful, to forget that her own brother was dead.

It had not happened recently.

But letting herself fall onto Faustus was good. No, it was bad, terrible, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t tell Hilda, what would her sweet sister say if she knew?

_‘It is your decision, Zelds. But you know what kind of man he is – I worry about you. Please don’t do anything stupid.’_

Too late, she already did.

How it had happened, she could not say. One second was all he needed, one moment for her to give in was enough to let him pull her further and further away from her safe zone.

It was worse and better than she had expected.

Better because it was familiar, not new, because she found herself stronger than she expected when she stepped back into the halls of the academy.

Worse because she lost control of it. Because she didn’t know how to retain it. Worse because she was falling and she knew he would never catch her.

 

...

 

After Batibat had interrupted their dreams, there was a thoughtful, depressed and very melancholic atmosphere settling over the mortuary. Neither of the occupants wanted to be alone so they all sat in the kitchen until dawn and went to bed after midday. But they could not help it if they didn’t want to be apart, could they? All of them had seen something terrible in those nightmares and it was still eating them up inside.

Sabrina started wondering if maybe she was making a fool of herself by keeping to her strong believes but she was to stubborn to accept such a notion.

Ambrose simply refused to cut open any bodies for the next few days, much to the chagrin of his aunts.

Because the two of them had much more serious matters to deal with. Their niece knew all their dreams but did not say a word. They didn’t need to talk about their dreams to each other. They just knew.

Hilda loved her sister but they couldn’t remain like this forever. She needed to stop forgiving Zelda, stop making excuses, start living again.

Zelda loved her sister but they couldn’t go on like that. She needed to stop hurting her, stop depending on her, start being herself again.

Perhaps they should have talked about it after all. But they didn’t because they never talked about those things and just went on with their lives. There was too much going on and by the time they finally found it in them to talk, it was already too late.

 

...

 

Whoever she was, she was not who she claimed to be. They had both met Mary Wardwell before and she had not been a witch. Neither was the woman who no claimed to be Mary Wardwell but that didn’t matter.

He had never mentioned her. He had never ever spoken of an excommunicate that he had taken under his wing and Zelda knew he would have mentioned that. He would have tried to convince her that it could help their cause. His cause.

But he had never said a word and she did not seem to know anything but that there had been three Spellman siblings once. Whoever she was, she had not done her research well.

They did not trust her. There was no reason that they should, none of what had happened in the wake of her appearance had helped their niece a little bit. She had only helped her cause even more mischief than she already did on her own.

No, they did not trust her.

There was only one good thing that had come from her ideas and it was not what anyone would have expected.

A lack of confidence was not something that was easily associated with Zelda but she had limited herself to simple spells in recent years. Perhaps it was shame that kept her from hiding it but she was afraid to use too much power. What if it went wrong?

Her brother had always been there to steady her magic, even if he had been a world away. Without him, it was wild and untamed and dangerous. What if something went wrong? She had yet to realise that her brother had never been the one to ground her magic – it was all her own doing.

But they had decided to go on with the exorcism and Zelda knew that no matter how dangerous it was, she had to help them or she would have failed her brother.

Again. She had already failed him too often in the past, in the last month!

So she went and took care of her family and saved them. Shouldn’t she be more proud of it? She probably should, yes. But she couldn’t bring herself to, she only felt relief – relief that they were all alive and relief that it had worked.

Perhaps this feat of magic was the first one in years that gave her confidence again but it did not last long.

 

...

 

Disaster after disaster, the feast of feasts, the collapse of the mines, the resurrection, her dalliance with Faustus.

It made feel alive again, if only for a short time. Then it all started tumbling down and she had failed, again.

What would Edward say if he could see the state she had let their family fall into? She thought he would be angry, mad at her – when deep in her heart she knew he would hold her close and whisper: ‘ _It’s alright, Zee. What happened is not your fault. You’ve done your best and I am so proud of you.’_

There was no one in her family who would want to punish her for her failure. No one even thought she had failed them; it was only what she thought. What she heard in moments of silence, when the whispers became louder again and told her vile things.

‘No, no, no, no, no, no!’

The moment Hilda’s arms were around her, everything seemed right again. Her warm and soothing presence was calming and within moments the world fell back into place.

There was no need for words to interrupt the silence. They had long since learned to speak without such trivial measures, communicate with their fingers and smiles and eyes.

For the first time since…in many a year, did Hilda plead with her sister not for herself but for her sister’s own good.

‘Stay away from him, Zelds, please. He will only hurt you.’

‘It’s too late for that. He already has.’

‘I really don’t like to see you hurt.’

‘Then don’t look.’

‘I can’t. You only look away yourself, Zelds. Someone has to make sure you are not too hurt.’

A sad, defeated sigh.

‘He will not hurt me again. He will not have that power anymore.’

‘Good.’

The silence is back after those softly spoken words, a comfortable warmth is filling the room and music comes softly from upstairs.

They are not good, not yet. But they will be.

 

...

 

They safe the town. Zelda has new strength. Hilda smiles and admires it. It’s not for her to know what she has done, where she gathered it from but she is almost like she used to be. Ambrose sees it too and only Sabrina does not.

But how could she?

She had never known her father or mother.

Zelda realises it too. She falters for a moment, barely noticeable and then they get to work.

It’s powerful magic and it flows through them easily and with a lingering note to it that neither of them can pinpoint.

Then Zelda and Ambrose disappear and Hilda is alone with her niece for a while. In the end, Sabrina finally goes and signs the book and they are all contend with the day’s outcome.

 

...

 

When her sister presents her with the baby, Hilda is only surprised, not angry. But she can understand her sentiment and doesn’t hold it against her. Being the older twin sister is something only Zelda can relate to and if she thinks that raising the baby here will be best, then she will not argue against it.

Still, her own work is done. Her sister has found her strength again. She doesn’t know when it happened exactly, when she dropped the façade and became herself. Of course she is still different, changed from the witch she was before. But where she had hidden her fears under snarky comments before are now snarky comments that tease and it makes Hilda smile.

‘It’s time I get my own bedroom back;’ she says and is almost tempted to stay when she sees her sister’s face. But Zelda doesn’t say anything and just nods tightly.

‘I’m not leaving you, Zelds’, she smiles. ‘I’m just one door down the hall. I’ll still be here, I promised you, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, you did. I still don’t like it.’

‘It doesn’t matter; you don’t have to. I’m going either way.’

‘If you must.’

‘I must. I have to be me again.’

Now a soft smile is playing on her sister’s lips.

‘I know. Do you want me to help you?’

If Hilda is surprised, she does not show it.

‘That would be lovely, Zelds.’

‘Of course.’

They work in silence until Zelda looks up at her.

‘I’m sorry for what I did to you. For everything. I just…’

‘I know. It’s fine.’

‘It’s not. I treated you terribly – ‘

‘Oh Zelds, don’t you know that you’re already forgiven?’

She shakes her head and picks up another box to take to the other room.

‘Hilda?’

She turned around and looked into her sisters face, for once open and honest.

‘Thank you, Hilda.’

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry? I guess?  
> I had no intention of it becoming this dark but once I started it was hard to stop.
> 
> Zelda is by no means crazy and I had no intention of making it sound like she is. But she and Edward were constantly connected in their minds ever since they were created and now the hole his death left has to be filled. Zelda is a special case because it is very unusual for a twin to not fall into the void within a few years. She stayed sane and strong for 16 years and she is fine. Well, more or less. But fine-ish. She'll be okay.


End file.
